Six-Eight-Eleven is a photo-essay project about small town high school football focusing on the small town football games and programs in the bypassed communities of Wyoming and Montana (mostly). Despite the decadence of American Football at the professional, college, and some high school levels, this body of work illustrates that there are still places in this country where football’s innocence is preserved and celebrated in a grass roots setting. This project commenced in 1997.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

I get some pretty unique comments and emails regarding this blog site. Regardless, I never thought someone would consider this project as a link to finding a coaching job, but as John Prine would say, "It's a big old goofy world." So, if any school system out there is interested in the following, drop me a line and I'll hook you up with this small town football coaching prospect.

I have 25 years experience coaching high school football in three states: Ohio, Maryland, and Florida. Currently I reside in Florida. My journey—God-willing—is to become a head football coach in a small town (in any state). However, I do not posess a teaching degree. In the past I have always worked as a sub-contractor for a given school or on a volunteer basis. My family includes my wife and four children.

My search is for a program that is in need of rebuilding. I have been involved with some great football programs over the years—attributed to my hard-nosed, hard-working, Christian values. My approach is a concerted focus on details and accountibility from coaches to players and from players back to coaches. I am 43-years-old and have been involved with football more than half my life.This may come off as a strange e-mail, just understand I am trying to live out a dream and if you have any knowledge of a program that would consider or talk to me, please have them call me.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

I'll be the first to admit it—so count me amongst the non-believers—I didn't give the Miners of Centerville a chance against Wibaux. The best I could hope for was a two touchdown margin of victory for the Longhorns. And when I watched the Miners take the field from the Centerville hillside, there was nothing about them that impressed me like the 1999 title team. Maybe it's just those giant numbers on the Miner jerseys that dwarf the young men wearing them.

In the early minutes of the game—I think it may have been the second play—Wibaux grabbed an interception and the next thing I knew they were on the scoreboard. "The romp is on," I said to myself from the hillside.

I came so close to attending the Highwood-Roberts six-man title game which was probably only a 45-minute drive from Centerville, and as Wibaux drove in that first touchdown, I was practically kicking myself for my final game selection of Centerville over Highwood.

Nevertheless, I had made a thoughtful and informed decision. I'd been thinking about it all week and even as I drove off in the wee early morning hours on Saturday, I was still considering which game I would attend since they were both in the vicinity of Great Falls._____________ . _____________

In the first place, I had attended at least two games at both locations going back to 1999, so I wasn't hurting for images from the Highwood or Centerville gridiron.

I also toyed with the idea of driving to Highwood to shoot the first half of the six-man title game and then speeding over to Centerville to watch the eight-man title game conclusion. After all, halftime for the six-man game at Highwood would likely come earlier than the Centerville-Wibaux game because each quarter is two minutes shorter—this would also buy me more time in the drive between games. Despite this logic, it made me feel cheap because I was opting for quantity over quality. Further, I tried this same experiment last year with a game at Rapelje against Ten Sleep (Wyoming) and another game at Park City against Winifred. When I arrived at the second game, there was only seven minutes remaining because Park City was clobbering Winifred which resulted in a running clock.

Another thing I considered was the team match-ups at Highwood and Centerville. Early in the year I attended the Roberts-Highwood regular season game held at Roberts—a damn good game to be sure. Although Highwood won, it was closely contested; so close that I reckoned Roberts could win if they played again. So, if I desired an uncertain outcome, than Highwood was my choice. However, as I mentioned above, I had my doubts about a well-contested game at Centerville. Yet, Centerville and Wibaux never see each other during the regular season. In fact, the only other time I know they've met was in 2000 for a semi-final game. Thus, there was a certain mystical attraction in the contest—kind of like Dracula vs. Frankenstein or Jason vs. Freddie—even if I was certain of the movie's ending.

Thanks to my early start, I arrived at the Highwood turnoff around 10:30 a.m. for a game that wasn't starting until 1:00 p.m. and I still hadn't made a decision regarding which game to attend. With the excess time on hand, I decided to drive on towards Centerville and have a look around the surrounding towns of Sand Coulee and Stockett which also contribute to the contingency of Miners from the "tri-town" area. Despite attending two other Centerville games in the past, I'd never travelled beyond its gridiron. Following my tour of the area, I would drift on over to Highwood for the actual game if that was my inclination.

Walking around in the "downtown" area of Sand Coulee, I approached the town paramedic/EMT who was preparing to depart for the football game. Standing next to his truck while he smoked a cigarette, I finally asked him directly, "So, why should I attend this game over the game in Highwood?"

He paused a moment and then told me about "some F-14s" that would be flying over just before the game started. Initially I was humoured by his reply, but more importantly, I was finally swayed in which game to attend.

Sure, it's no big deal when a bunch of fighter aircraft buzz a major college or professional football game, but flying over an eight-man football game was rare in my book. Truly, this could be one of those small town moments. I made my way for the Centerville gridiron and confirmed my tip with the athletic director after I paid my six-dollar admission. Afterwards I positioned myself on the hillside with a camera that I considered would capture the moment and setting as I scoured the horizon for the incoming F-14s.

Keeping my vigilance, I felt a bit inadequate with my miniscule Nikon camera, especially since I didn't even know the direction of their approach. I knew there wouldn't be much time if I had the luxury of seeing them close in on the venue—even less time if they came from over the hill behind me. For a moment, I sympathized with the Iraqi army back in those early and glorified days of the "war on terror."

At 12:50 p.m. I spyed two, fast-approaching bogies and within seconds managed to peel off four shots before they were out of sight. I didn't even have time to make a positive I.D.—friend or foe. Now I know what a poor soldier I would make… shoot first and ask questions later.

Regardless, it was "mission accomplished" and kick-off was only moments away._____________ . _____________

Well, I'm hardly a sports writer, but the whimsical happenstance (despite my attempts at logical reasoning) that brought me to Centerville resulted in one of the most exciting football games I had ever witnessed—at any level of the game.

Following the second Wibaux kickoff in the early minutes of the game, I was taken back when Centerville marched the football down the field and tied the score. Not only that, they made the two-point conversion and grabbed the lead. I was amused. "Well, at least it won't be a shut-out," I said under my breath from the hillside.

The visiting Longhorns came right back with another score on a long pass to their swift halfback and regained the lead, but failed again to make the conversion. And as the first quarter came to an end, the Miners answered back with a long pass of their own and suddenly, I found myself attending the game I thought was to be found only in Highwood.

In short, I was stunned and remained so throughout the game especially when Centerville was up 42-20 early in the fourth quarter. Even a few players from Chester J-I (who represented the only team that had faced both teams; Centerville during the regular season and Wibaux in the playoffs) were somewhat shocked. But just about when I thought there was no hope for the Longhorns, I was stunned again when Wibaux came storming back while the Centerville passing game fell oddly silent.

The momentum of the game had shifted to Wibaux's side and with less than two minutes remaining in the game, Wibaux miraculously tied the game to send it into overtime. At that point I was sure the Longhorns would win the game, but even so and regardless of the outcome, this was far from the game I had expected. Then I considered either team receiving the runner-up trophy—it didn't seem fair.

Overtime in Montana playoffs is settled by each team having four downs from their opponents ten yard line—reminiscent of extra innings in a baseball game. If neither team scores, they each receive another set of downs until the tie is broken.

Centerville won the coin toss for overtime and chose to defend first (just like the home team in a baseball game). And in that first set of downs during overtime, Wibaux's momentum was suddenly neutralized when they lost a fumble near the goal line.

Centerville's offense started with a sputter of their own in that first possession of overtime. On second down—out of the shotgun formation—the Miner quarterback missed the ball as it passed between his legs, but he recovered it back on the 21 yard line. As it turned out, this loss opened up the passing lanes between the line of scrimmage and the end zone, and on the next play he found one of his favorite receivers in man-to-man coverage with a perfect strike over the middle in the end zone.

As the setting sun drew closer to the horizon, I witnessed the mingling of emotional extremes. The yellow-clad jerseys of the Wibaux team—some still lying on the field from the play that just ended the game—were engulfed by the black-clad fans and players from Centerville pouring on to the field to embrace the player who caught the winning pass and his other teammates._____________ . _____________

And I thought the team and fans from Drummond had a long drive back from Wibaux the week before upon losing their first game in 45 wins (the longest winning steak in Montana history) during the semi-final contest with the Longhorns. But, it was clear that the crowd from Wibaux had it every bit as bad—might as well be a 2,000 mile drive home for them. I wondered if many of them came to the game with the same expectations as myself—thinking the Longhorns would be less challenged in this game compared to the Drummond game.

On the drive home, I thought about those exhilarated hometown fans at the Centerville Bar or The American Bar in nearby Stockett. Perhaps I should have lingered a bit to witness the merriment. Nevertheless, the further I drove into the night, I found myself thinking more about the defeated Wibaux team instead—the Pittsburgh Steelers of Montana 8-man football.

The week before I sat in Wibaux's most popular watering hole, the Rainbow Club, where locals watched old videos of past title games on one of the TVs. It was a reminder of how many titles the school had claimed over the years and how high the locals held up those championship teams. Certainly this group of players wanted to be counted amongst those elite title teams of the past as well. "Weren't they as good," I asked myself, "Don't they deserve to be included in that elevated group even if they came up short in overtime of the title game?" Former player and assistant coach Travis Nellemore could surely speak to the question. If I recall correctly, he played on teams that won the state title and lost the state title games. I'd like to think that whatever he said to the Wibaux players—perhaps from the darkened interior of the humming bus as it glided eastward down the lone highway—somehow shortened that long drive home.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Wow, what a game. What... a... game—one of those that you hate to see either team lose.

Nevertheless, Wibaux appeared to be the better team from the opening minutes of the game. But, no one told the Trojans they had met their match which is why the outcome of the game was unknown until those final seconds.

My hat goes off to the Drummond Trojans, not just this year's team, but all the teams—going back to that first game of the 2003 season when it all started. I don't like to claim favorites in all the miles of following small town high school football games, but Drummond would be up there if a gun was held to my head. Why? Despite their success, the coaches and players have always maintained an air of modesty and humility about them. In short, they don't flaunt it. I wish our country's foreign policy would adopt some of these attributes found in Drummond's football team.

Oops... politics, I probably shouldn't go there. Not here anyway.

So now, Wibaux finds itself back in familiar territory—the state title game. I haven't seen this year's group of Miners from Centerville, but I'd be a fool to bet against the Longhorns after watching them this past weekend. Someone point out their weakness to me because I didn't see it.

All game talk aside, my favorite image/memory of the Wibaux-Drummond game won't be the eruption of Wibaux fans when they realized their Longhorns had sealed the victory, nor will it be the look of defeat on a team that has never experienced defeat. Rather, it was a simple and fleeting image and I suspect few noticed—it was Wibaux's head coach Jeff Bertelsen. Once the game's outcome was history, I glanced over to find him sitting on the sidelines with his bare, kicking legs stretched out in front of him like a giddy child in a bathtub—it is truly remarkable to see such unbridled happiness in a person. So, "Where's the image," you might ask? I'm sorry to say, but as far as photography goes, that was a fish that got away.

Postscript: I'm not sure if the Wibaux-Drummond II outcome means there's a changing of the guard in Montana Class C eight-man football. I suspect Drummond will be back (like Wibaux did this year) as well as the usual suspects; Centerville, Park City, and Stanford. Anyone else? Oh yes, and than there is Superior coming down from Class B to join the ranks of eight-man once again. They had 41 players on this year's team and they were in the Class B playoffs too.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Like many good folks around the state of Montana, it's hard not to think about this weekend's upcoming semifinal football games. Personally, I don't know what to think of myself walking around the campus of Northwest College in Powell, Wyoming thinking about playoff football games in Montana when my hometown Panthers are playing for the state title in Douglas this weekend. Traitor? Well, I've some thoughts explaining this strange phenomenon, but I'll save that for another time.

In some ways I think the semifinals are as anticipated as the finals—in fact many people have pointed to a couple of the games (i.e., Wibaux vs. Drummond) and have made claims such as, "That's the state title game right there." Perhaps, but if I had my way, I'd attend the Wibaux vs. Drummond game and the Park City vs. Centerville game too. That being possible, I wouldn't mind folding in the Libby vs. Dillion game too. Oh yes, than there is the Huntley Project vs. Malta.

I suppose there's this part in me that wishes the-powers-that-be would stagger the games so nut cases like myself could drive in record time between these games and witness each one. Yet, there is something good about picking only one and making the best of it.

I did that last week when I chose to drive to Park City for their showdown with Twin Bridges. Admittedly, I was hoping for a better game. Depending on who you talk to, either Park City is really good this year or Twin just didn't show up in full force.

Well that got me thinking about which teams really are the best based upon the common teams they've played thus far. So, here's what I came up with—it truly means nothing, but I just chuckled to myself for the pure entertainment of it all.